


In which Vanamonde has a scheme

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: Clank and Dagger [3]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, please note how quickly Hadrian got a new hat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 05:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: Because really, he has to do something.





	In which Vanamonde has a scheme

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is coherent. I've been sick with assorted ailments for a month now.

Hadrian sprawled in the comfy chair, slouched low enough for the armrests to prop his elbows up like awkward wings. His feet stretched out before him, and his chin drooped to his chest. His hat had slumped down to cover his eyes. Vanamonde gave him a look of despair, which he missed. 

“I was feeling so good,” Hadrian said yet again, giving one hand a halfhearted wave. “And then he ruined it.”

“Terribly rude of him.” The words lacked a little more conviction every time Vanamonde said them. He knelt and peered into the void beneath the sofa, searching for his shoes. 

“I mean, who does he think he is?”

“Who does Tarvek Sturmvoraus think he is?” Van dragged his shoes into the light, sighed, and upended one over the sofa cushions. A tiny clank, a spool of thread, and two bottle caps dropped out of it. The clank blinked up at him. Honestly, it was like living with cats. “Are you seriously asking me that? Because I’m pretty sure he knows exactly who he is at all times.”

“He can’t just—”

“He can,” Vanamonde interrupted. 

“—drag people onto rooftops—”

“I’m not sure you have an accurate grasp of the situation.” 

“—and ruin their delightful evenings!” Hadrian dropped back in a sulk for what felt like the seventeenth time. 

With another sigh, Vanamonde turned. “Hadrian,” he said, “why are you in my chair?”

Hadrian thumbed the brim of his hat up to peer down at himself. “It’s the comfy chair.”

“Uh-huh.” Van made an expansive gesture with his shoes. “And why are you in my home?”

“Oh. Because it was unlocked.”

“It most certainly was not!” Not unless the Castle had helpfully taken to letting uninvited visitors in. 

Hadrian let his hat drop back over his face. “Perhaps not. Don’t overreact.”

“How am I not supposed to overreact to you breaking into my living room just to whine to me about Sparks being Sparks?”

“I resent that.”

“Of course you do.” Vanamonde sat down, and the two bottle caps slid toward him. Ignoring them, he stuffed his feet into his shoes. 

Hadrian displayed a singular dedication to his sulk. “A little sympathy would be nice, you know,” he grumbled, oblivious to Van shaking his head at him. 

“What am I supposed to say? That I’m sorry I’ve managed to make friends independent of your interference? I’m not.” He thought of a net attached to a spring mechanism, of a landslide of snails, and he suppressed a shudder. “And yes, before you ask, I count Tarvek Sturmvoraus among my friends.”

“Such as they are.”

“Don’t help.”

Hadrian made a sweeping, melodramatic gesture with his mechanical hand. “My dear Vanamonde, all I ever want is to help. Would you deny me even that?”

“I do not have time for this.”

“So that’s a yes, then?” Hadrian’s eye twinkled in the shadows beneath his hat. He knew exactly what he was about. Well. Van could refuse to play. 

“Of course you can help me, Hadrian. Pull yourself together. I have a busy day today—”

“Aren’t they all busy days?” Hadrian sighed. 

“Come with me and you’ll see exactly how busy they are.” Vanamonde turned his back to Hadrian as he reached for his coat. Let his uninvited visitor feel unimportant. It would do him good. 

“You won’t trick me into doing your work for you.”

Vanamonde had a strong inclination that he could indeed do just that, if he put his mind to it. Instead, he shrugged and scooped up his keys. And the little clank, which had attached itself to the keyring. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to be late.”

The chair made that familiar rheeeeee- _ping_  noise as Hadrian slumped forward out of it. “I have no appointments before noon.”

“How nice for you.”

Vanamonde made a production of holding the front door wide for Hadrian, who failed to appreciate it. He harrumphed when Van locked up just as showily. They walked along in silence together, and Vanamonde enjoyed a few minutes with just his own thoughts to distract him. He considered what to do with his latest problem. Hadrian Greenclaw could be such an unmitigated pain when he put his mind to it. 

The cafe staff greeted them both with enthusiasm, and Vanamonde snuck a suspicious glance at Hadrian. Hadrian who was distracted, glaring at Van’s usual table, where a familiar head of red hair bent over a cup of coffee. Vanamonde put on his breeziest disposition as he swept into the seat and bade his friend good morning. 

“Here you are,” Tarvek Sturmvoraus said, not directly pointing out his tardiness, but acknowledging it nonetheless. Vanamonde admired the man’s flawless manners. “Good morning, Greenclaw.”

Vanamonde took a few moments to appreciate the coffee Tarvek had already ordered for him while Hadrian grumbled something grudgingly polite. Tarvek ordered a coffee for Hadrian, who probably failed to appreciate it, and a plate of pastries for the table. He looked at Vanamonde, and just the faintest hint of mischief danced behind his smirk. Vanamonde swallowed a grin with a gulp of hot coffee. So Tarvek was driving Hadrian twitchy on purpose. Not undeserved, he had to admit, but he did hope the two of them would learn to get along. 

Hadrian took his time stirring sugar into his coffee, probably more for show than for actually sweetening his beverage. He took a long, suspicious sip as Vanamonde and Tarvek chatted, mixing business into the usual pleasantries in an effortless, seamless sort of way. And he glared openly when Tarvek called the Heterodyne by her given name. Tarvek noticed, of course, and he hid his feline smile behind a sip of his own coffee. He was enjoying this, wasn’t he?

Almost on a whim, Vanamonde decided to bait Hadrian. He made a casual comment about a matter connected to the Blood Circle, and it happened to be entirely incorrect. Hadrian fired back an objection without thinking, giving away too much in his eagerness to prove Vanamonde wrong. Tarvek glanced between the two of them, calculating, assessing this new game. A hint of a smirk played across his lips, which he hid behind his coffee. 

How could Hadrian wonder why Tarvek and Vanamonde were friends?

“Is the Baron joining us this morning?” Van asked, and he enjoyed the way Hadrian’s posture went rigid. 

Tarvek scoffed. “I’m not his keeper.”

“No,” Hadrian agreed, his tone unnecessarily dry. “That’s not the descriptor I’ve heard.” Both he and Vanamonde watched with satisfaction as Tarvek turned a bit pink at the insinuation. Then Hadrian’s demeanor soured again, and he grumbled into his coffee, “Unworthy, the both of you.”

Ah. So that was it. Hadrian’s distaste for Tarvek Sturmvoraus stemmed not from personal dislike, nor even reaction to Tarvek’s unfortunate bloodline. No, Hadrian railed against the man out of misplaced loyalty to the Heterodyne. Again. 

Vanamonde pressed his fingertips to his temples. What a headache. “I need some air,” he said, and Tarvek stared in open horror as he stood up, leaving coffee still in his cup. “I’ll only be a minute.” Reaching into his coat, he produced a piece of paper. “Here’s a schematic of that mechanism I was telling you about.” Leaving the paper on the table, Van headed for the front door. 

_Please let this work._

Ignoring curious glances from the cafe staff, Vanamonde stepped out into the busy Mechanicsburg morning. He took one step to the side of the door, and he leaned back against the wall behind him. Across the street, Gkika and the three sisters clustered beneath one of the Torchmen. It looked like a serious conversation, except that Natya leaned on Oksana to tilt her far enough that Dina could reach her hat. The effort failed, as usual. Life certainly was more lively with the Jägers in town. 

When he guessed enough time had passed, Vanamonde leaned over to peer into the cafe window. To his satisfaction, he saw Tarvek and Hadrian, their heads bent over the schematic, deep in animated conversation. They gestured, they scribbled notes on the paper, and Hadrian even bounced in his seat.

Feeling smug, Vanamonde strode back into the cafe. The two of them didn’t even glance up at his return, leaving him free to enjoy his coffee in peace. 

Vanamonde considered the maneuver an overwhelming success.


End file.
